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“Gale, darling, when was the last time you bathed yourself?”
Astarion stands on the edge of a mess in Gale’s tower. The circle of notes and open books spiral around every surface available and point to the man at their center. He’s currently hunched over a leather bound tome that might even be older than Astarion himself.
“I am clean,” the wizard replies absently.
“That’s not what I asked,” Astarion chides, venturing into the hoard. He watches his steps carefully, placing his feet only where it seems Gale has done the same. He wants desperately to throw open the heavy curtains on the windows and bring sunlight into the dingy room, but he pushes the foolhardy desire away as he finally reaches his partner.
He leans down to press a kiss to the mess of brown hair, subtly inhaling as he does. Gale was not lying; he smells clean, despite emerging from his tower only to sleep and eat for the past few weeks. A spell of some kind, Astarion thinks, leaning in more now that he knows it’s safe.
He wraps his arms around Gale’s shoulders, letting his hands trail lazily down the man’s chest. His eyes wander over the page the book is open to, curiosity catching on a few words before Gale closes the heavy book with a thud.
“Is this why you came up here?” He asks, grasping gently to one of Astarion’s wandering hands.
“With you? Without a bath? Absolutely not,” Astarion teases, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to Gale’s cheek. His beard is as unkempt as his hair; a grooming spell can only do so much. “I’ve already drawn the hot water and I would hate to have my efforts wasted.”
Gale sighs deeply like he might protest, but Astarion can feel the subtle way his muscles relax under his hands. “Alright. For you, anything.”
Astarion withdraws then, dancing delicately through the scattered manuscripts once again to return to the bathroom. Gale will need no further coaxing, and his slower pace gives Astarion a chance to put the finishing touches on his presentation. The tub is already filled, but he takes his time to lay out the soaps and oils he uses on his own body in an inviting array. He uncorks a bottle and pours just a touch into the water. A light rose scent fills the room and he smiles, satisfied with his atmosphere. There’s just one final touch…
When Gale finally enters the bathroom, he pauses in the doorway just for a moment before quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. “You could have told me that this was not merely about my hygiene.”
Astarion grins in that self-satisfied way from inside the tub. “I’m not sure what you mean, darling. I have every intention of cleaning you up before you leave this room.”
Gale exhales with a sound of disbelief and tugs his robes up over his head. Not quick enough to hide the flush of red on his cheeks, Astarion notes with pride.
Naked now, Gale folds his robes neatly and sets them to the side before climbing into the bathtub. He starts to sit across from Astarion, but the other grabs his hips decisively and guides him down between his legs.
Despite his show of exasperation, Gale practically melts into the scented water and Astarion’s arms with a deep sigh. “I suppose this is better than removing filth with magic,” he admits, leaning back against Astarion’s chest.
Astarion wraps his arms around Gale’s middle, pressing lightly into the softness of his belly. “Let me clean you properly, before you fall asleep here,” he replies, urging Gale to sit up again. The other does so reluctantly, looking over his shoulder at Astarion expectantly.
Astarion picks up a cup from the side of the tub and dips it into the water. He reaches out to hold Gale’s head back just enough and pours the water over his hair, taking care to keep it out of his eyes. He repeats the motion twice more until he is satisfied all the strands are properly drenched. He reaches then for one of his many bottles of soap and empties a generous amount on the crown of Gale’s head.
“Lean back again,” he murmurs, and Gale does just that, settling into Astarion’s chest like there’s nowhere else he would rather be.
Astarion gathers some of the soap on his fingers and runs them through the strands of Gale’s hair. Despite his messy appearance, his hair is well brushed and Astarion only catches on a knot or two. Satisfied with the coverage, he returns his attention to Gale’s scalp. He massages slowly but deliberately, occasionally pressing in with his nails just enough to scratch.
Under the attention, Gale sighs and the last of the tension in his neck vanishes. He sinks down in the water, so much so that Astarion is worried he might submerge himself completely. He stops when the water reaches his chin and Astarion redoubles his efforts of relaxation.
He rubs the soap in until it refuses to sud anymore, and then some. Only then does he reach for the cup again and rinse the residue out of Gale’s hair. The strands shine now, chestnut and chocolate and hints of smoky gray spraying out at his temples. Astarion presses a kiss to the top of Gale’s head.
“Up now,” he says. “Just enough for me to reach your beard.”
Gale complies, albeit slowly, and waits in relaxed silence. His eyes are heavy lidded and a smile quirks at Astarion’s lips. “If I knew it were this easy to silence you, I would have done this years ago,” he teases, rubbing another lightly scented soap between his hands before beginning to work it into Gale’s beard.
Gale doesn’t respond, content to find a place to lean his head against Astarion’s chest and close his eyes fully. Astarion waits a few moments before speaking again.
“That tome you were reading…It spoke of curing vampirism.” That has Gale’s eyes open again, and he cranes his neck enough to meet Astarion’s eyes.
“I found it in that store we visited last month. It was supposed to be a surprise…” Gale replies. “I didn’t know if it was even possible, and I fear it will be a while still until I’ve found an answer. But I swear to you, if it can be done, I will do it.”
The intensity in Gale’s eyes as he speaks throws Astarion off balance, just for a moment. Even after all this time together, the lengths Gale will go to for him never fail to surprise him. “It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that is likely a myth.”
“For you, it’s worth it,” Gale’s reply is immediate, stern. He sits up to look back at Astarion. The sleepy relaxation in his eyes is replaced by that passion that leaves Astarion susceptible to believing anything he says. “I would lock myself in that tower for a hundred years if it meant returning your soul to you.” He reaches out to cup Astarion’s chin in his hand, holding his gaze.
Astarion closes his own eyes for a moment to avoid that intensity that muddies his own thoughts. Able to think clearly once more, he chooses his words carefully. “I would rather have you by my side for those years,” he says, and opens his eyes again. “What good does it do me to have such a devoted partner if he isn’t around to wait on me?”
A smile pulls at Gale’s lips and he laughs. “I suppose I could stand to spend some more time outside of my tower from now on. It does get quite drafty in there.”
“That, I can’t help you with,” Astarion replies with a shrug. “You’ll need to find a whore to warm your bed, if that’s what you want.”
Gale laughs again, pulling Astarion in close to him. “All I want is you. It will never be anything but you.”
Astarion spares himself from an undignified response and presses his lips to Gale’s for a moment. “Now, will you allow me to rinse your beard out? You look quite ridiculous covered in soap bubbles.”